“Ah, you old hangman! it is me you have trodden under foot; you have murdered me; I shall not survive it.” And certainly the unfortunate prisoner would have fallen ill but for the counterpoise which Providence had granted to his grief, and which was called Rosa. In the evening she came back. Her first words announced to Cornelius that henceforth her father would make no objection to his cultivating flowers. “And how do you know that?” the prisoner asked, with a doleful look. “I know it because he has said so.” “To deceive me, perhaps.” “No, he repents.” “Ah yes! but too late.” “This repentance is not of himself.” “And who put it into him?” “If you only knew how his friend scolded him!” “Ah, Master Jacob; he does not leave you, then, that Master Jacob?” “At any rate, he leaves us as little as he can help.” Saying this, she smiled in such a way that the little cloud of jealousy which had darkened the brow of Cornelius speedily vanished. “How was it?” asked the prisoner. “Well, being asked by his friend, my father told at supper the whole story of the tulip, or rather of the bulb, and of his own fine exploit of crushing it.” Cornelius heaved a sigh, which might have been called a groan. “Had you only seen Master Jacob at that moment!” continued Rosa. “I really thought he would set fire to the castle; his eyes were like two flaming torches, his hair stood on end, and he clinched his fist for a moment; I thought he would have strangled my father.” “‘You have done that,’ he cried, ‘you have crushed the bulb?’ “‘Indeed I have.’ “‘It is infamous,’ said Master Jacob, ‘it is odious! You have committed a great crime!’ “My father was quite dumbfounded. “‘Are you mad, too?’ he asked his friend.” “Oh, what a worthy man is this Master Jacob!” muttered Cornelius,--“an honest soul, an excellent heart that he is.” “The truth is, that it is impossible to treat a man more rudely than he did my father; he was really quite in despair, repeating over and over again,-- “‘Crushed, crushed the bulb! my God, my God! crushed!’ “Then, turning toward me, he asked, ‘But it was not the only one that he had?’” “Did he ask that?” inquired Cornelius, with some anxiety. “‘You think it was not the only one?’ said my father. ‘Very well, we shall search for the others.’ “‘You will search for the others?’ cried Jacob, taking my father by the collar; but he immediately loosed him. Then, turning towards me, he continued, asking ‘And what did that poor young man say?’ “I did not know what to answer, as you had so strictly enjoined me never to allow any one to guess the interest which you are taking in the bulb. Fortunately, my father saved me from the difficulty by chiming in,-- “‘What did he say? Didn’t he fume and fret?’ “I interrupted him, saying, ‘Was it not natural that he should be furious, you were so unjust and brutal, father?’